You get everyone.  Except Eth because he got asked specifically.

Taldy is probably the only one who legitimately enjoys being wet, as long as it’s not like, a freezing cold rain.  You don’t really get many of those in Eversong anyway, eternal springtime and whatnot.  Getting caught out in the rain is cause for jubilant frolicking and splashing in little puddles, lots of giggling and sailing leaf-boats down rivulets.  He doesn’t care that his robes get soggy and his hair weighs a ton when it’s wet.

For Goslin it’s a different kind of enjoyment.  He’s a death knight, an adept in the realm of frost magic, so sodden surroundings give him quite an advantage for all that he hardly ever encounters anything worth engaging.  As of late, given his apprentice’s near-constant company, he’s more likely to pull a Frozen and use the wet weather to throw together some kickass ice sculptures to gladden Hali.  He wants to care about the little lad and do nice things for him, even if he can’t really feel that want anymore.

Bel and Ceer are very similar in that 1] they’d rather not get their hair and robes wet, and 2] flash floods are super scary and they’d really rather not drown.  Bel is more likely to hide under something until he absolutely has to leave, while Ceer will throw up a forbidding to keep the rain off. [Ceer also relishes any chance to show off his magical prowess, and it’s better received if his spells are for something practical.  For the record though, Ceer’s fella Zeke is much like Taldy in regards to how he views the rain.] Of the two, Bel is likely to be considerably more pouty—he puts a lot of time and effort into his hair, robes, and occasionally makeup, so when the rain fucks all of that up, he tends to be a bit miffed.

Sibarra takes a very traffic cone like stance towards precipitation.  Getting soaked is a bit of an inconvenience, but it’s not like he won’t dry off eventually.  He appreciates the cover of both falling rain and heavy fog to mask his sounds and scent and even hide him from sight.  This is not to say that he doesn’t appreciate finally being home—he’s got quite a lot of hair to get dry, and leathers to tend to.

The rain is very much an obnoxious inconvenience to Zak if he’s got somewhere to be, or he’s carrying his work with him—even if they stay safe in his bag, humidity can still utterly destroy photos.  If he has nowhere pressing to be and he’s not carrying precious items however, he doesn’t mind taking off his shoes and enjoying the mud and wet.

Hamiel generally dislikes getting caught out in storms because he’s a big jolly spoiled baby who’s usually fully armored—and getting all that shit dry is a task and a half.  His hair is also very curly and a bit kinky and it’s difficult to get the tie out and comb it to order when it’s soggy.  He’s much more prone to grumping at his companions when he’s all drippy and has clothes and underpinnings sticking to him and weighing him down.  He’d really like to just strip everything off and wallow by a fire but unfortunately for him he’s more responsible than that.

Oh goodness that island is going to be the death of me.

Eth’s feelings about mages are twofold—part distaste, part fascination.  Distaste because of the two he’s known closely, one is a snotty fucking blue dragon, and the other was a pedantic, manipulative old man—kinda hot at first but progressively more and more of a douche.  He knows, logically, all magisters can’t be raging fuckwaffles, but nevertheless he’s usually leery of people with power, status, money, etc.  There’s one exception to this—Bel—but Bel was a priest, and one of Eth’s teachers when he was wee, and he’s seen into Bel’s soul already enough to know Bel’s not gonna fuck him over, despite being a lovely lord from a house full of blood mages, shadow priests, and eventually blatant warlocks.  Eth himself has no substance abuse issues.

Ceer likes his wine but he’s not wholly dependent on it.  He likes his magic but he’s not wholly dependent on that either.  Same for his money, power, status both legit and pretended… He should really be the kind of person Eth runs fast and far from, yet Eth rather likes him—must be that deep-seated paladin’s mentality, oops.  Ceer himself is a darkcaster/cursebreaker/warlock thing; he has no strong opinions regarding mages, other than some of them can be really pretentious nerds.  Warlocks are worse for that though.  Fucking magic nerds.

Beldran smokes everything non-thistle he can get his hands on.  He drinks in moderation, but smokes in excess.  Lately he’s been smoking less so that’s nice at least.  He has no strong opinions about mages either; they tend to be of his same social caste so he doesn’t really mind them, generally.  Unless they’re just grossly unstylish.  He doesn’t like to be seen near grossly unstylish people.  He’s really horribly superficial most of the time.  All the time.  Time. [Of note, Bel’s father is wretched—he’s showed no signs of recovering and frankly Bel’s A-okay with just waiting for the old prick to die.  He’s lost his fucking mind anyway, not much to recover there.]

Hamiel admires mages kinda.  He’s marrying one, shh.  I’m pretty sure I’m not actually allowed to count protein as a substance abuse issue; he’d totally use creatine if that was a thing.  Get even fucking more huge.

Taldren doesn’t know it yet but he resents the everliving shit out of mages.  His sister did as their parents asked and became a fine magistrix—he fucked that up for himself and got disowned, oops.

Goslin’s a death knight.  Fear and pain may as well be drugs for him.  His AU vampire self is addicted to the caffeine and sugar from pepsi?  Like he gets legit fucking cranky without it, it's pretty funny.  Doesn’t mind mages; he’s honestly quite proud—as proud as he can be at any rate—of his little apprentice Hali.  Hali’s a little bb warlock, though.

OHBOY HERE WE GO

For Ethadril, ghosts are sad remnants, souls trapped on his plane of existence and unable to move on.  They’re in need of a gentle nudge to set them on their way—and he’s terribly afraid to nudge them too hard because it might hurt them, and they don’t deserve to be hurt, they’ve been hurt enough.  Usually their only crime is… well, dying horribly and being dead.  He’s afraid that Liam’s somewhat more forceful methods of exorcism actually hurt or even damage the ghosts, which he doesn’t want to do.  He sees them as whole people, silent and sad and in need, and he’s never been able to just look away and ignore that need.  In Silvermoon proper, there’s this old rundown house Eth sort of took to—there’s a ghost living there, a man who found out his children, or maybe nieces, had died, and hanged himself in grief.  Eth knows he needs to send the guy off, and he knows it’s creepy and even dangerous to let the guy stay and fester, but.  He feels really bad for him.

For Lord Beldran Mallory, ghosts are goddamn scary.  He believes one is clinging to him, sitting on his shoulders and whispering horrible thoughts in his ears—this may or may not be true, because he did kill, and kill horribly, a man many many decades ago, and it’s possible he could very well be haunted or pursued, but.  That’s his only experience with ghosts, that irrational and overblown fear.  He’s gotten the heeblie-greeblies from places, digs and tombs, many times before, but no actual ghosts have accosted him personally.  He’s the sort to be skeptical to the point of stupidity as well, immediately blaming shit on drafts and creaky stairs and uneven floors.

Taldren Morninglight believes in ghosts, but he’s never seen a person’s ghost—animal ghosts, that’s something entirely different.  He’s not afraid of spirits, though in some cases he probably should be; there’s quite a lot of confused, angry shit roaming the mossy woods he calls home, slaughtered ferocious things that can’t believe some puny quel’dorei or blunt-minded, slavering troll ended their lives.  He’s a peaceful sort without a threatening bone in his body, and he fully expects ghostly things to see that and take heed.  He’s not the brightest.

Hamiel Dawnhammer loves a good bone-chilling scary story.  While he respects the sanctity of the dead, he also has a great deal of… appreciation, for the scary shit they’re capable of doing.  Not even going to try to sugar-coat it, he tells his beau Terathyn all kinds of terrifying, maybe-true ghost stories, aiming to get him to cling close for protection because he’s a mega-weenie like that.  Like, “stand here at the door while I piss so no ghosts or monsters come take me off”-level mega-weenie.  Ham’s pretty unrepentant about this.

Ceer Abernathy loves ghosts.  Where Eth wants to gently nudge them along to the afterlife posthaste, Ceer wants to sit them down with a big cuppa tea and hear all their stories.  And in a way, in his ancestral home at least, this is possible—the magically inclined of the Abernathy family commit their magic [just their magic, and the consciousness that goes with their magic] back to the house when they die.  Their souls, hearts minds whatever you want to call it, go to the afterlife they’re destined for, whatever that might be, but the magic stays, and the magic has a voice.  The most readily apparent of these voices is Elodie, Ceer’s great great grandmother—she’s a regal old matron, tall and skinny and black-haired and pale-faced and green-eyed like Zekeal, Ceer’s love, and as such she sort of latched on to him in a kind of protective, concerned manner, because they’re similar both in looks and nature.  She’s benevolent, like all the house’s voices, though some are more boisterous than others and can as such be seen as mildly dangerous simply for their enthusiasm.  Ceer’s relationship with the dead is… that of friend, where Eth would rather act as shepherd.  Though he’s absolutely not opposed to smashing a ghost into the afterlife with a blunt, flaming object, if it happens to get ornery with him.